Razor Blades
by LeFay Strent
Summary: Toris hires a professional cuddler to help Feliks with his touch aversion.


It had all been Toris's idea. Feliks certainly never would have signed himself up for something so terrifying and dangerous. Toris can question him on the dangerous part all he wants, but this is totally dangerous!

"You're just saying that because you have to meet a stranger," Toris points out, to which Feliks flips out.

"Of course I am! Strangers are like the most dangerous people!"

"I thought studies showed that you're more likely to be harmed by someone you know?"

"Yeah, but strangers judge you more and junk and it's awkward. Do I really have to do this, Tory?"

Toris sits in the living room of their shared apartment. He's been watching Feliks pace back and forth, sitting there calmly as if this is just a normal Tuesday. Feliks squeezes his hands underneath his armpits in a last attempt to keep himself from biting his nails (such an awful habit he's spent years trying to break because ew, but his stupid _anxiety_ won't let the urge die).

Toris isn't an inconsiderate person. In fact, his problem is that he's _too_ considerate, which is the reason why he even signed Feliks up for a one-on-one session with a professional cuddler, and God would Feliks be cooing and raving over what a cool job that is if he wasn't going to be a victim. That being said, Toris takes in Feliks's nervousness and says, "If it makes you absolutely uncomfortable to do it, we can call it off. But I do really think that this would help you, Feliks."

"Help give me a heart attack," Feliks grants. "I always knew I'd die young, but damn. At least I won't have to meet them and they, like, see what a mess I am."

Toris sighs. "You won't die, and they're not going to think so poorly of you from just meeting you. That's just your mind going into overdrive and coming up with the worst."

"Well if I could shut it off, I would, Tory," Feliks snaps. He stops his hand right as his fingertips touch his mouth and in frustration, he jerks the offending limb away and shakes out his arm.

Dumb body, betraying him as always.

He turns to Toris and whines desperately, "I don't need to cuddle a random stranger; I have _you_!"

It's true. Toris has been his friend since forever, and who really needs more friends when you already have one? They're like best friend soulmates, practically married, and Toris understands all of his needs. Well, he may not understand _all_ of his needs, but he caters to them so it doesn't really matter. Except when Toris is trying to coax him to work past his insecurities.

A small smile flashes on Toris's face. "Humans are pack animals, remember? It's good to have more than two. Besides, don't you want a—what is it—a squad? You could have a proper squad if you learned to interact with people."

"But we're a squad."

"A squad needs more than two people."

"No it doesn't. That's what makes ours special."

Toris sighs again, but this one is different. It's heavy and drawn out, and it's the kind that always makes Feliks pause and reconsider what he's doing.

"Feliks . . . we can cancel, but I still say you should at least give it a try. You can stop at any time, and you'd be in control of the situation."

Feliks considers it as he fiddles with his fingers. Control is nice, but the way Toris worded this, it makes things weird. "You make it sound like sexy times are gonna happen. What if this is just a front for a prostitution ring? You said it was a woman coming over, right? That's like, weird. I don't want to have sex with a woman. Vaginas are scary as fuck."

"It's not sex," Toris says with a frown. "Please don't say anything like that when she comes over. I did check everything out, you know. Professional cuddling _is_ a legitimate business. They even hold workshops for groups and such. All they do is hug for about an hour."

"So like a hooker without the benefits."

"Feliks . . . no."

Feliks huffs out a gust of air. "Whatever. Fine, I'll do this and they'll like be honored to hold my hand. It's really _me_ doing them a favor, since they'll be able to hang out with someone as hot as me."

Just then, as if a test from God, the doorbell rings.

Feliks dives onto the couch and tries to hide between Toris and the cushions. "I changed my mind. I look like trash and nobody should see me. Like ever."

"Feliks, it'll be fine," Toris tells him and pats at his head like he's a little kid. Feliks might have bit his hand if he isn't so focused on clutching at his best friend to keep him on the couch. But somehow, Toris is stronger than him and manages to get up and walk to the door. Feliks remains on the couch, body too stiff to make a run for his bedroom.

The door opens and Toris greets the person outside. It's some smiling lady with long brown hair sporting a pink clip in it that matches her blouse. Feliks instantly feels shame wash over him because she's really pretty and she shouldn't have to look at someone like him.

Yet here she is, coming over to their place, paid to touch and cuddle him for a whole hour. How desperate can he look? She'll think he's pathetic, and a hundred excuses flit through his mind. He'll have to tell her why Toris put him up to this, why Feliks even needs a session like this. He'll have to tell her about his aversion to touch, _why_ he is scared to touch other people. They'll sit there, on the floor or the couch or the bed even? And she'll expect Feliks to be all over her, but he'll be shy and he doesn't even know if he can handle holding hands because she shouldn't have to touch him. He doesn't even want to touch himself. Toris is the only one it's okay with. But when it's other people, brushes of skin feel like razor blades. No, worse than razor blades because he can deal with those. Razor blades make neat little lines on his thighs, leftover scars from days when a shitty household and shitty parents had been too much. But people touching him cuts deeper in a way that he could never describe and he doesn't know if he'll ever be rid of it no matter how Toris tries to help him.

So to his surprise, the lady never asks about all of those things. She simply comes in, led by Toris, and greets Feliks with a wave. "Hi, I'm Elizabeta Héderváry. You can just call me Liz. Feliks, right?"

Feliks bolts up from his seat and stands rigid in place, not knowing if he's supposed to initiate a handshake or something. All he wants is to hunch behind Toris out of sight, but Toris must know that because he stays out of reach. He lets them be introduced to each other and then volunteers to go to his bedroom for the duration of the session. Feliks wants to yell at Toris for abandoning him but Liz is watching, and Feliks's words die in his throat as Toris walks away and closes himself up in the bedroom.

That leaves the two of them standing in the living room. He can't even look her straight in the face, staring at the carpeted floor more than anything.

"How would you like to get started, Feliks?" Liz asks. She sounds nice about it at least, but Feliks can't help but wonder what she's really thinking.

Feliks fiddles with the cuffs of his long sleeved shirt. "Uh . . . like what do we even do? I don't know about this stuff."

"That's okay," she says rather than be annoyed. "Sessions are about consent and touch. We do a lot of hugging, holding hands, breathing. We can talk or be quiet. It's all about relaxation. Think of it as like a massage and therapy rolled into one."

"Breathing's nice. I do a lot of it," Feliks says, and fuck it all, he sounds stupid. He meant it in that they could just sit there and breathe and _not_ touch, but he just sounds retarded.

Liz laughs a little. "Yeah, practicing breathing exercises helps a lot for stress. Some sessions we'll just meditate together."

"That's . . . cool. We could do that."

"Alright, let's do it," she agrees.

She steps over towards the middle of the floor and sits down cross-legged. Her hands rise to beckon him over and sit in front of her, and Feliks is timid enough to do as she instructs. He mimics her position on the carpet, sitting too close to her for comfort. Her arms lay on her knees, palms facing upwards in a way that signals to Feliks what the next step should be.

Feliks grips his hands together in his lap. He knows absolutely what she intends, but he asks anyway. "So, we should like, hold hands for this?"

She doesn't laugh at him or call him an idiot for pointing out the obvious. She just nods and looks open about it. "If that's what you want. This is your session, so you're the leader here."

He eyes her waiting hands as if they're on fire, and it's almost strange how she doesn't call out his tentative behavior. Feliks would think she knew about him if he knew one hundred percent that Toris would never go around spewing his personal information. As it is, she's patient, and it seems the only one who's getting frustrated with his lack of movement is Feliks himself. He decides to not be a wuss and take Toris's advice and just try at least.

He reaches out, his left hand moving in to lay on hers way too fast. Heat and pressure slam into his nerves and he doesn't last a second before he's wrenching his hand back to his lap. He rubs at his palm to wipe away the overwhelming sensation. Liz watches him calmly, but she must be questioning him so he blurts out an apology.

She shakes her head. "It's all right. We can start whenever you're ready."

Feliks thinks about how much of a failure he is, considering how quickly he's spooked. Most people cuddle for these things! How lame does that make him if he can't even hold her hand for more than a second?

He scowls and glares at her hand in determination. He can just rest his hand over hers. They don't even have to twine their fingers. Just settle it there and chill out and get to the actual meditation part.

He moves that same hand back to hers, much slower this time. He hovers for a moment, fingers twitching slightly, until he steels himself to move down. Her hand is smaller than his, despite how his are thin and bony. She doesn't move her fingers to encase his and trap him there. And although her flesh against his isn't as warm as he thought when he first tried, it still becomes too much for him after less than half a minute.

"Sorry," Feliks says, feeling stupid and childish again. "It just . . . hurts."

Liz doesn't move. Her eyes don't roam over his face or posture searching for answers. She sits there, palms open and ready, and tells him softly. "It's okay. Take all the time you need."

For some reason that brings tears to his eyes, and it's the only reason why he finds the strength to keep going.

* * *

 **Heya! I hope you liked the drabble. I really adore Feliks's character because I find him to be relatable, especially in that he is this really cheerful, silly character with his own opinions but he's also sensitive and has troubles with anxiety. I think he's a great example of showing that anxiety doesn't only affect introverted people, and in a way that can be harder to deal with in terms of validating your struggles. There are people who don't understand how a person like Feliks can be exuberant but then turn around and say, "I can't go to the party; I have bad anxiety." Since some people don't understand it, they can't accept it and assume that you're lying. So in the drabble, when Elizabeta is patient and tells Feliks to take his time, he gets a little emotional because even though Elizabeta doesn't understand why Feliks struggles to perform the seemingly simple task of hand holding, she accepts that he needs more time to work up to it. And that's super important, accepting someone's needs even if you don't understand them.**

 **As for the little plot of this, it's personal to me because I have an aversion to touch. It's not as bad as Feliks here, but it makes me severely uncomfortable and on my bad days it can even trigger panic attacks. Even if it's people I'm close to, it bothers me, and not everyone I know understands that. I'll tell them, "I don't like hugs. They make me uncomfortable," and I'm just called rude for it. The weird thing though is that I don't dislike the idea of hugs or holding hands or touching. I freaking _love_ the idea of hugs and if it didn't feel like my skin was going to crawl off my hide and strangle me, I would hug everybody. That's why when I learned one day that professional cuddling is a thing that exists, I thought it was cool and could be a great therapeutic process to help people deal with touch aversion. But none exists around where I live, and I probably wouldn't be brave enough to go through it myself, so I made Feliks go through it instead. Haha! I doubt that Feliks overcomes his touch aversion completely, but I can see him making friends with Liz at least.**


End file.
